Shattered Dreams, Distant Memories
by TheAnomalousOne
Summary: In a post-Mustafar world where Anakin killed Obi-Wan & Sidious to become Emperor, Padme struggles to keep the twins from Vader's corruptive influence. Can she safeguard the galaxy's last hope and discover lightness in the dark?
1. Prologue

**Finally! I'm sorry I've kept you waiting, but the combination of GCSE exams (ew) and having a million different versions of this story means organising and typing have been rather slow. However, I now have a very long (yay) summer ahead of me, so I should be updating fairly regularly.**

**I've done the light side, so now it's time to plunge into the dark...**

**Enjoy, and remember – It's all George's!**

Prologue

It was a world turned upside down in chaos. The sky was a malevolent brooding grey, the mountainous surface punctured by ugly streaks of burning red and yellow. The acidic air of Mustafar was distorted by heat and smoke.

In amongst this burning wasteland, the fate of the galaxy was being fought for.

Two warriors, balanced precariously on a floating platform above deadly lava; two clashing lightsabers, but only one victor. This was a duel to the death.

The duellists, two blurring masses of light and dark, streaked with ash and soot.

The light figure, his lightsaber always on the defensive, blocking every strike, parrying every blow; he didn't have the heart to strike his closest friend. His blue-grey eyes were wide in both denial and disgust at the monster he battled.

The figure cloaked in darkness, both inside and out, relished the fight. Powered by his hate, he felt free: utilising the emotions he had been ordered for so long to contain, to make him fight better, stronger, faster. The brilliant, pure azure of his lightsaber was the only indication of the Jedi he had once been.

The dark figure's face contorted in frustration, and the light figure's eyes darted wildly – they both knew this fight was going nowhere. As sparring partners for the best part of 10 years, each knew each other's fighting style so well that no progress could be made on either side. They were perfectly matched; it was clear this battle would have to be won in some other way.

Seeing a bank rising high above the lava, the light-clad figure jumped, using the Force to safely land, "It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground." His eyes pleaded for him: _concede now, I don't want to kill you._

The black figure sneered at the other's weakness, seeing his words only as a challenge, "You underestimate the power of the dark side." Light side or dark side, he would always be bold.

The light figure was shaking his head now, battling against the inevitable, but one didn't need force perception to see what was coming next, "Don't try it."

Always quick to deny authority, the dark figure gave a small smirk before acting. He jumped, flew, towards his opponent, but not quite as expected – at the last second he added just a little more strength to the jump so that he sailed over his opponent's blade, aimed for his legs.

As the light figure's lightsaber hummed through empty air, the mass of dark acted swiftly and coldly, landing lightly and stabbing his sabre at his enemy's unprotected back. Blue energy exploded upwards through the light Jedi's chest, his eyes opening wide in surprise and shock. He was held frozen in time for a seemingly endless second, before the lightsaber searing through him was retracted – with it went the last of his strength.

The Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, fell dead to the ground. With his life also went the last the last of Anakin Skywalker's soul, strangled and suffocated by Darth Vader. Killing was all the same, once you had the weapon, the experience: enemies, friends, the innocent, the guilty – they had all died by this lightsaber, and Vader was numb to it all.

Lord Vader looked coldly down upon the body of his friend, his mentor – his father in every way that mattered. Obi-Wan's eyes were still open, forever fixed in that look of astonishment, gazing sightlessly up at his killer. The Sith made a small noise of repulsion, and pushed the body down the crumbling slope with his foot.

Without a final comment, or even a backwards glance, Vader turned and walked away, victory singing in his veins.

It was a tragic place to die for both men – one, murdered in cold blood, the other doomed to an existence of hate and suffering, as a result of his actions here in this scarred, desolate place.

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><p>The cloaked Sith Master, cunning, deceptive and despicable, Vader's approach to him framed by the long row of clone troops on either side; plumes of erupting lava as a fiery backdrop to the scene. Vader nodded sharply without speaking, a frigid greeting of respect.<p>

"Excellent work, my apprentice." Sidious croaked, his voice saturated with greed. Under his black cowl, only the glinting of the Sith's red and yellow irises were visible. "There are none left to oppose us – the galaxy is ours, now. Peace." The last word was breathed as though a sigh of relief, and Vader's lip curled in response: peace was an ideal, never a reality – three years at war had taught him as much.

Sidious reached a withered, spidery hand into the folds of his cloak, drawing out a lightsaber and passing it to his student, "Your new weapon, Lord Vader."

Vader turned, hiding his expression from his master as he examined the lightsaber. It was an ugly thing, all gold and chrome: decorative, but utterly useless as a practical weapon. Vader balanced the elaborate cylinder in his hand, thinking, a cruel smile on his face. The blade would be bright red as per Sith tradition, crimson like blood – it was only fitting the first blood it should taste was that of its creator, Sidious.

His mouth still bared in that vicious smile, Vader spoke, tilting his head but not giving his master the privilege of eye contact, "Foolish old man – you know nothing of the power I possess."

With Sidious distracted, Vader acted as quick as lightning: throwing the red sabre above his head, Vader twisted around, caught and ignited the blade and buried it hilt-deep in Sidious' chest.

At some point during the Clone Wars, Anakin Skywalker had been given the title 'The Hero with No Fear'. Anakin was merely a shadow now under the influence of Darth Vader, so perhaps 'The Killer with No Fear' was more apt: for in Vader's eyes there was no trace of fear or remorse as they bored into the eyes of his perishing master.

As the spark went out of Sidious' poisonous eyes, Vader deactivated the lightsaber, letting the body slump to the ground. The clones that surrounded Vader shifted uneasily, unsure what to do. One of them raised a blaster – sensing this, Vader directed his gaze at the soldier, clenching his raised fist. Gripped by the power of the dark side, the man rose struggling off the ground, choking noises coming from his throat as the breath was squeezed out of him.

"Disobedience will not be tolerated." Vader's order echoed across the platform to the clones – with an air of finality, he jettisoned the man out into the lava river; the clones all took a wary step back.

Vader turned back to look at the body of his master, sprawled on the floor, and a malicious ecstasy spread across his face, "Now, the galaxy belongs to me!"

***sobs in the corner***** I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan! Seriously, I was distraught for a whole day when I wrote this :D. Join me next time for more!**


	2. Chapter One: Awake

**Hello there, here comes the next chapter! I'm going to save all the spoilery rambling I have to do until the end, because half of the fun of deciphering the characters comes from doing it yourself. Enjoy.**

**Do I own this? (all together now) No I don't!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One – Awake<strong>

Channel 2156. "Breaking news just in - Emperor Skywalker today delivered a revolutionary speech to-"

Channel 2157. "Join us again for another round of celebrity gossip, games and-"

Channel 2158. "On Galaxy News tonight: the Emperor has spoken after another successful campaign, his wife Padmé Skywalker still conspicuously absent-"

Channel 2159– "My lady?"

Blinking, I raised my head, dropping the control to the vid-screen on which I had been channel-hopping. My neck stiff from being in one position for so long, I turned sluggishly to face the direction the enquiry had emanated from. It was Dormé – officially my handmaiden, unofficially my only friend in this hostile new galaxy – standing patiently in the centre of the large room.

"Do you want any food, or…" she paused, hesitant, "I'm sorry Padmé – you look so _bored_."

I almost laughed, wondering how I _wasn't _supposed to be bored to tears: the suite on Vader's ship I called 'home' looked depressingly featureless and familiar, although it was more of an elaborate prison cell than a home – I had been confined to my quarters by Vader in the interests of my 'safety' for the last two years. Instead I arranged my face into a rough imitation of a smile; it looked like a grimace, "The monotony is killing me."

Dormé shrugged, "There are worse ways to go."

I tilted my head inquisitively – the realization struck me that everyone seemed so much more accustomed to death now, after the war. Dormé had, as my protector, seen her fair share of danger and death, but over the course of the last few years she had hardened. Maybe that same transformation had happened to me, but I hadn't realized. It wasn't surprising – war does that to people, turns them into unfeeling creatures.

The war: officially, it had been declared finished nearly two years ago; officially, diplomacy, peace, had resumed. But from the keyhole-glimpses I had snatched of the galaxy, we were still at war – opponents may have swapped roles, but ultimately this war was about as finished as my husband was redeemable.

My husband: Darth Vader. I had long since given up hope of him realising his wrongs, changing his ways. My head had, after a bitter struggle, accepted that Anakin Skywalker was permenantly lost; my heart, however, stubbornly refused to believe anything it saw anymore. This was part of the reason why I had not attempted an escape from my glorified prison yet – the lonely spark in my cold and shattered heart still bound me tightly to the man bearing my love's face. The other half of the reason was that trying to escape without help would be suicide – I'm not stupid.

Dormé broke into my reverie, "Are you sure you're alright, my lady?"

I nodded in reply, too lost in my thoughts to speak – a dangerous place to be. "Very well, I'll leave you in peace," she murmured, turning to leave, "I'll just check on the twins."

The mention of Luke and Leia was like an electric shock to my lethargic brain, jolting me upright, "No!"

Dormé whipped around, immediately on guard as I lurched drunkenly to my feet, "No, I'll check on them – I need something to do." My companion raised an eyebrow as I staggered past, my head spinning from getting up too fast. Thankfully she decided to humour me, and left me alone.

Luke and Leia slept peacefully in the room adjacent to mine, for once not making any noise at all. If I had been in a more sentimental mood, I would have said it still felt like only yesterday the twins were born. The reality, however, was that time had dragged – the children were only now approaching their second birthdays; I was glad they were not yet old enough to realise the full scale of the world they lived in, or the parts they had yet to play.

My breathing slowed to match that of the sleeping twins as I watched them, their small faces illuminated by the soft yellow glow of the lamp in the room. The windows on the far wall looked out on black, starry space, offering no appeal – no planets or notable stars to tell me where I was, or where I was headed. The uneasy feeling in my stomach reminded me that I still wasn't used to just being a passenger on a ship, not having any control or information.

Looking around the small room, I sighed – I had tried to disguise the tasteless lack of individuality in the spaceship's interior here, for the twins, but it hadn't really worked – it was like trying to jazz up a warehouse with tinsel. The room still had an unmistakeable cold feeling, a mark of my husband.

With another sigh, I kissed each of my children on their smooth, unblemished foreheads, stared at them until it felt like the impression of their faces was burned into my mind, then switched off the lamp and left the room.

It was the 'night' shift of the daily cycle on board Vader's flagship, the _Executor_, and there was comparative silence – save the engines, which never slept. Dormé had disappeared into her room, her familiar clattering quieted for the night. My chrono read 0030 hours, standard time – in response, I yawned widely.

Despite having just been crashed out on the sofa, I fell back there again, staring at the delicate chrono on my wrist as if I could make time past faster just by staring at it. For this was the ultimate paradox of my existence: I spent half of my day wishing time would go faster, and the rest lamenting on how I've wasted two years of my children's lives, with nothing to show for it.

I moved around, restless, and closed my eyes in a futile hope that sleep would come – but I couldn't relax. It was late, and in my exhausted state, suppressed memories came to the forefront of my mind to taunt me: Mustafar, that awful planet where – no, I couldn't think about that; the wild, blinding confusion of the twins' birth, somehow finding the will to hold on; seeing the heart-breaking change in my husband for definite, hearing for the first time the terrible declaration: Empire; the embarrassing and overblown formal wedding ceremony, Vader completing his transformation to a power-hungry dictator; finally, the long time spend isolated from the galaxy on Vader's ship, quite literally a prisoner in my own home.

My heart sank even lower in my chest, and I had to forcibly remind myself why I was still here: the twins. If I was so selfish to do away with myself, no one would be left to protect Luke and Leia from Vader's dark and corruptive influence – all my past friends and allies were either dead or suppressed, forced into hiding by Vader's dramatic shows of force. No one would be left to care for them, guide them into instigating peace and change into the galaxy of the future. If I wasn't here, Vader would surely seek to turn his children into smaller versions of himself – something I wouldn't stand for, no matter what.

Among the shattered remnants of my life that remain, Luke and Leia are the only things that remain vaguely solid, the only things I can cling to that won't crumble beneath my hands. It is this, more than anything, which gives me the strength to stand, to guard their lives with my own – if it came to it.

As I wallowed, I felt something solid brush the back of my hand – startled, I opened my eyes, only to relax again as I realised what it was. The pendant I wore constantly had come to rest on my hand – the talisman I had received as gift, all those years ago, from a young, newly freed slave boy from Tatooine: Anakin Skywalker. He had been so bold, so eager to prove himself even when he was nine, I remembered, but he had been so kind, so selfless. Unconsciously, I fingered the small square of carved wood, bringing it close to my chest as if it could protect me.

In its own way, my pendant was a talisman – all of my good memories were associated with it, and by wearing it now, in this time of darkness, I could keep a reminder of the lighter times close. Vader had noticed that I still wore it – I suppose he would think it meant I still loved him, but he couldn't be more wrong. I wear the pendant to remember my real husband, Anakin Skywalker, who died that day on Mustafar – I despise the monster who took his body, and everything that Vader stands for. These are the black and white beliefs I hold – if only things were so simple in reality.

Across the room a mirror caught my reflection, and I had to stare at it before I recognised myself. I was pale, and shadows hung under my eyes like bruises, highlighting how dull and flat my eyes looked. I now permanently wore the impassive mask I had developed whilst being a Senator (another part of my former life that I was now robbed of) that hid any emotion from view of the outside world.

I wore a loose shirt and trousers – since my day's activities were limited to my small apartment I had no need for formal clothes anymore.

It was while I was reminiscing that I felt a dark shadow growing at the corner of my mind, like a malignant cloud passing over the sun. It was peculiar, but I had grown to realise that feelings like these signified a dark presence, namely Darth Vader. I hadn't spoken of this strange talent to anyone since it had very gradually manifested itself, during my pregnancy – I preferred to keep my own secrets these days. I had no idea why I could feel people's presences, but was sure it would come in useful someday.

Now, it gave me the warning I needed to compose myself, before Vader swept through the doorway. There was no other way to describe it – he had a lithe, fluid grace about his movements, though the ruthless determination in his stride hadn't been there _before_.

I didn't respond as he entered, something I purposefully did because I knew it infuriated him. Smirking internally, I stared resolutely towards the vid-screen – I hadn't even realised I had turned it back on – watching the "news" – or rather, the propaganda-controlled news that told the citizens of the Empire only what Vader wanted them to hear. On the screen, a woman with a plastic smile was telling the galaxy how Vader had heroically crushed another pocket of rebellion – I looked away from the footage with sorrow, lamenting yet more unnecessary deaths.

"Aren't you even going to look at me now?" said Anakin's voice – as if the sound were a magnet I turned, against my will, and looked. Darth Vader was dressed entirely in black, the cloak and robes he wore making him seem even taller than he was. His hair was still the same – dark brown, curling at the ends, effortlessly swept off his face – but his face had changed. The pure azure of Anakin's eyes was gone, hardened into ice-like chips that seemed as sharp as knives. When he was consumed by his anger, his eyes changed colour, seared through with red and yellow – like the lava out of which Vader was born – a distinctive mark of the Sith.

But there was no trace of red in his eyes now – indeed, he looked smug as I answered his question, "Not if you insist on keeping me locked up here like a prisoner."

Before I knew it, Vader was beside me, one of his black-gloved hands wrapped around mine, "Don't you realise that I'm doing this to keep you safe?" His voice was soft and low, painfully persuasive, "I won't lose you again, Padmé."

I shifted uncomfortably, trying and failing to extract my hand from Vader's iron grip, "Your wish is my command, Emperor Skywalker." I spat, using Vader's official title. This didn't seem to put him off, however – maybe because he knew he had already won.

"Oh my angel, why do you hate me so?" This was the worst part – Vader still had a horrifying ability to melt whatever steel I made to barricade myself into my mind, just with words. As a Sith, it seemed he had learnt to be charismatic when he wanted.

"I never loved you, monster, and you never loved me." I raised my chin, looking squarely back into Vader's face. My voice sounded strangely small and uncertain, but it was the truth I spoke – from that day 2 years ago on Mustafar, my 'husband' had never loved me, only been possessive, like I was a pretty trinket.

Vader had a short temper, and it seemed I had got to the end of it – he threw my wrist away from him and stomped to the other side of the room, his back to me. His voice was hard and forced, "We've been through this before, I am _still _your husband, and you will _respect_ me."

"Respect," I mocked, intoxicated with a dizzying mix of love and hatred, "I will respect you when you give me back my freedom." I felt only a twinge of guilt at throwing insults at Vader – whatever he believed, he was a different man now, the man who had ruined my life.

His fists clenched at his sides with suppressed anger at my disobedience, Vader changed the subject, "I came to see you with news of an old friend."

_Really_, I thought sarcastically, _I thought you had them all killed?_

Vader ignored my mental jibe, which had doubtless picked up through the Force, "Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore is being moved onto the ship."

"Really?" I turned my head – Satine was an old ally and friend, "What did she do to deserve your attention?"

"She was the leader of an attempted rebellion on Mandalore, and is being transported to Coruscant for public termination." My old self would have been horrified at this news, would have made a stand, but I had seen too much death to feel anything at all now.

I shook my head to myself – another appeal for democracy had been viciously subdued, its leader publicly humiliated as an 'example to others', "And why are you telling me this?"

There was an evil glint in Vader's eye, "The Duchess is an inspiring and potentially useful leader – I would hate to see her terminated. I thought you could convince her to help the Empire, her co-operation in exchange for her life."

Once again, I raised my chin, "And if I refuse to do as you say?"

"You won't." Vader's look of steel would have been terrifying, if I hadn't been so numb and exhausted.

I said nothing, and heard Vader striding back towards the door, guarded outside by two stormtroopers, "I will arrange for you to meet with the Duchess tomorrow morning. Goodnight." With that cold farewell Vader left, off to whatever he did in the depths of night. I had made a stand that I should have my own private room, and at times like these was grateful that I could have my own space.

As I staggered into my bedroom and got into bed, I shuddered, remembering the time, early on, when I had been forced to share a bed with Vader. Now, I only ever saw him when he came to 'tell me something' like just now – this was a curse as much as a blessing, for there was nothing to stave off the boredom.

But at least tomorrow would herald a temporary break from the monotony – I would have the chance to relive more memories from my old life, in the form of Satine. What must she think of me, now? However reluctantly, I was still the wife of the Emperor, and will be expected to convert her to the Empire – I wouldn't blame her or even be surprised if she hated me.

Nevertheless, if she realises that we are the same, both keen supporters of a rebellion that would see peace and justice return to the galaxy, then perhaps I could regain an old friend yet.

I drifted off into an uneasy sleep, with my wishes of democracy filling my dreams.

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><p><strong>So, there you go – I thought I would leave an expectant ending, as Satine is a great character (this of course has nothing to do with the fact that we share a common love for a certain Obi-Wan...) and I would like to devote a whole chapter to looking at her character.<strong>

**Speaking of which: As you no doubt will have already noticed, in this fic I have tried to explore the two characters of Padmé and Vader differently from how I usually do.**

**Since this story is from Padmé's viewpoint, expect a lot of her judgements, particularly of Vader, to be twisted to what her hatred wants her to see, as a result of her restricted freedom and emotional torture at Vader's betrayal of everything she valued. Vader meanwhile, believed what he is doing is actually right, and is less blood-thirsty than Original trilogy Vader although he's still a Sith, ruthless, rash, narrow-minded, possessive... I took inspiration from the dreaded "you're going down a path I can't follow" scene from ROTS and made Vader very volatile – one minute he could be stroking Padmé's hair, the next strangling her – and surprisingly adept at persuasion.**

**Oh, one last thing (if you're not already bored out of your mind): I can't decide whether Vader would have kept the name given to him by Sidious, and be known to the galaxy at large as Emperor Vader, or whether he would have used his Skywalker surname and be known as Emperor Skywalker (as very few people will have known that he was really a Sith, and he still has Anakin's face). Padmé, always keen to defy convention, calls her husband 'Vader' to make a clear distinction between Anakin and Vader. **

**Hmm, I wonder if I'm thinking about this too deeply...**


	3. Chapter Two: Memories

Chapter Two – Memories

**Sorry this chapter to so long in being posted, but I'm still writing and editing, and trying to get back to writing after taking a break for exams…**

**As always, it's George's house, but I'm the one with the wrecking ball…**

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><p>Trying not to look too stupid, I marched straight down the corridor, wincing under my helmet. The white stormtrooper outfit I had 'borrowed' from a storeroom on the way down was too tight in all the wrong places, and the standard issue blaster was heavy and clunky in my hands. Nevertheless, it felt good to be sneaking around again, causing mayhem.<p>

I walked purposefully towards a bank of turbo-lifts, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. The doors hissed closed, and punching in the level that I remembered from before – the level that the soldier who had escorted me to see Satine had selected – I smiled to myself, relaxing now that I was alone and in comparative safety. My mind wandered back to my first meeting with the person who I was going to help escape now: Satine.

The soldier who arrived to take me down to meet with the Duchess that morning had been quaking in his boots when Dormé opened the door – he had no doubt believed the ridiculous rumours that the Emperor's wife, too, had the power to shoot lightning from her fingertips. I was impatient, having paced the living room all morning, so merely gave the poor man a commanding look, gesturing for him to lead the way – I hadn't been in a talkative mood, being so preoccupied with memorising the route down to Satine's cell.

The detention level, it transpired, was unimaginatively titled – there were row after row of cells, enough to hold almost as many prisoners as there were crew. I amused myself with imagining the look on Vader's face if all the cells were needed. I remember the cell that contained my old friend – 1046 – it was small, with a metal bench at the back end and a sturdy table with two chairs. Satine sat up when I entered, looking suspiciously at the soldier.

Following her gaze, I attempted to order the soldier away, "A little privacy, please?"

"Sorry your Highness, but I have instructions from the Emperor to monitor you." Came the standard reply – the white-clad stormtrooper shifted uncomfortably under my irritated gaze: it was 'your Highness' now, was it?

"What am I going to do – kill Satine and eat her? You can do your monitoring from outside." The soldier hurried to comply with a quiet "Yes, your Highness", leaving me alone with the prisoner.

Satine and I looked at each other searchingly, Satine rising unsteadily to her feet. It was clear Vader had been rough with her – her ornate blue headdress was askew, her dress dishevelled, but her eyes still had the old spark I remembered – the belief in what was just and good.

"It's been a long time, Satine." I said simply, keeping my distance – Satine had no doubt heard a lot of stories about me, and needed time to work out which ones were merely gossip.

"Yes, times have changed – but are you still the Padmé I remember?" Satine spoke uncertainly, trying to figure me out.

There was a moment of tense silence, before I smiled, "Rebellious, interfering – I haven't changed at all." Despite our current situations – she a prisoner, I a prisoner in all but name – we both laughed and embraced as old friends.

Satine sat down in one of the chairs, and I took the other, across the table, "Padmé, it's so good to know you weren't brainwashed into all this Empire nonsense too."

"I'd never support that hypocrisy – what happened to democracy?" I sighed, shaking my head at the table.

"How your husband could have done this, I don't know," Satine shook her head in confusion, "The General Skywalker I knew seemed like such a dependable Jedi."

At this, I drew myself up, "The Anakin Skywalker we both knew is gone – he would never stand for Vader's dictatorship."

"Yes, yes, I didn't mean to offend," Satine soothed, understanding, "I know so little of the Jedi and the Force – the only Jedi I properly knew was O-Obi-Wan..." At Satine's mention of our old friend – in Satine's case it had been more than just friendship – terrible memories rose in my mind. With a considerable force of will I pushed them away, putting a supportive hand on Satine's trembling shoulder.

Quickly, I changed the subject, "I hope Vader hasn't treated you too badly."

"Tolerably," responded the Duchess, "considering I am under arrest and awaiting execution." There was another uneasy silence, that Satine filled, "They took me right from my own council meeting, you know. The Emperor still doesn't have any tact, that's for sure."

I nodded, until Satine asked me an unexpected question, "Padmé, why are you here?" At my startled, inquisitive look, she elaborated: "I doubt Vader would have let you down here just to have small talk with a prisoner."

Once again, I sighed – it was the only thing I seemed to do, nowadays, "You're right – Vader wants me to persuade you to join the Empire, in exchange for your life. He thinks you could be a great 'asset' to him." I sketched the word in quotation marks, to show Satine just how much I supported them.

A weary, humourless chuckle escaped Satine's lips, "Mandalore is a neutral system, and I have no wish to change that. Vader can arrest me for being a 'rebel' – for not joining his Empire – but it won't change my mind."

I leant forward, touching Satine's arm, "Do you realise what you're saying? Vader is going to _execute_ you – it's no laughing matter."

"I know," Satine leant forwards herself, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "but I always bear in mind the chance of rescue."

Satine gave me a pointed look, before looking up quickly as the soldier re-entered the cell and addressed me, "Your Highness, your time is up – I have to escort you back to your rooms now."

"Very well," I said curtly, over my shoulder. Even two years on, it still bothered me that these were the clones – although with a change of uniform – that had betrayed their Jedi commanders during Order 66.

Satine chuckled, "You must have patience, Padmé. I have enjoyed your company today, perhaps we could arrange another time?" She gave me another pointed look, and I understood – another meeting, one with less of a... security presence, where we could talk more openly.

I winked discreetly, "I shall see what can be arranged. Goodbye, Satine."

"Don't keep me waiting, Padmé." Satine replied good-naturedly, raising a hand in farewell as I left.

The short journey back to my rooms was a silent one, as I was wrapped up in my own thoughts. I struck me as strange how... optimistic Satine seemed to be staying – I could only speculate as to her reasons.

I did see Satine again – disguised as Dormé, I fooled the guards into believing my story about 'delivering a message to the Emperor', and retraced my steps from that morning. Satine was pleased to see me, and we wasted no more time with small talk, formulating an escape plan, which we arranged for the following evening. However, our conversation never strayed above a whisper – we were painfully aware of the security camera watching our every move. Soon, however, both our minds wandered, and we arrived at a topic of conversation which was painful for both of us, but nevertheless bubbled to the surface.

"Sometimes, I still feel like I'm in a dream – everything just changed so _quickly_." Satine was saying, her eyes misty. We both knew what she was talking about – the dramatic change from democracy to Empire, two years ago.

"We were all deceived by a lie." I said, paraphrasing words I had heard _that_ day. It was a release for me, to talk to someone about what had happened then – I was alone in my mind, after all, "We weren't fighting the war we thought we were."

"No..." Satine murmured, before looking at me earnestly, "Padmé, tell me – do you believe what people say, that the Jedi were corrupt and plotting to take over the Republic?"

"No!" I exclaimed reflexively, before thinking about it, "I mean, the Jedi were an old and noble Order – I doubt that they really had ambitions to seize control of the galaxy."

"Of course, but I had wondered..." Satine looked troubled; I felt the need to re-assure her.

"It was all a cover story, an excuse for the Sith to wipe out their oldest foes." At my words, Satine seemed horrified.

"Wiped out – but surely some Jedi must remain?" The Mandalorian was trying to be hopeful, refusing to admit the truth, "I heard Master Yoda got away, what if others managed too?"

"Satine," I said softly, looking directly in her crystal-blue eyes, "I have been on Vader's ship for the last two years – Vader has been hunting Jedi, unfortunately with considerable success. Vader won't stop until he's exterminated them." Then, after a pause: "Obi-Wan died on Mustafar, Satine, you have to accept it."

"No," Satine slammed her hand down on the table in denial, "They never found a body, I won't believe he's gone – I can't."

Now I saw what was keeping Satine going – the hope that her love could still be alive, in hiding, "Mustafar is a volcanic wasteland – if Vader didn't kill him, the planet did." It was brutal, but necessary – Satine couldn't go on like this, wishing for something that would never come.

I sat there, hugging Satine as she cried her heart out, and felt so lonely and miserable I thought my own heart would break. It was then that soldiers, who had finally realised that Satine had an unexpected guest, arrived – in a blurry haze I was escorted back to my room. I laid awake, thoughts chasing through my mind. Was there really anyone left, anything that could help me and Satine restore democracy? _Yes_, I had to tell myself, _there is always hope._

It was with that same aching feeling in my heart that I came back to the present, dressed in ill-fitting stormtrooper gear in a lift plummeting to the detention level. With a polite _ping_ the lift ground to a halt – I was so shaky that I jumped at the sound.

The door slid back to reveal a workstation and several guards, who looked up as I strode out of the turbo-lift.

"The Emperor has sent me to bring the prisoner in cell 1046 to him." I grunted at the nearest guard, who looked up blearily at me.

"What, at this time of night?" The guard yawned and got up from his chair – his helmet was tossed on the floor, and he looked half-dead from exhaustion, his attention not focused on me.

"Just following orders," I said, playing stupid. My throat was starting to hurt from growling so much – I imagined there weren't too many female stormtroopers around.

The guard stretched, clumsily directing me to Satine's cell – not that I needed the help, of course. "I hope that mad wife doesn't try anything... we've had enough trouble from her already." _Well thanks_, I thought sarcastically, stomping off down the corridor. Once outside the cell I entered the access code – again from memory – and the door hissed back.

Satine stood ready and waiting, and caught the spare pistol I threw to her, stowing it out of sight in the folds of her dress. _Nice outfit_, her appraising look indicated.

Still trying to act like a stormtrooper – the guard was in view – I barked, "Emperor Skywalker has ordered your presence." Satine walked up to me obediently, letting me handcuff her – I purposefully left the cuffs slack.

I took a deep breath as we emerged back into the corridor – out of the corner of my eye I caught Satine's wink of encouragement – and then with a straight back I marched the return journey towards the turbo-lift.

I was almost there, towing Satine beside me, when one of the guards called to me, "Hey... do you want me to comm ahead, and let the Emperor know you're coming?"

I could sense the fear in the soldier's tone, and took advantage of it, "It sounded like the Emperor's in a bad mood – I wouldn't risk it." I held my nerve and headed into the elevator with Satine, leaving the guard shrugging.

"Well done Padmé! That was the hard part," Satine congratulated me in a whisper, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

"I wish you wouldn't say that – nothing's easy when Vader's around." I muttered, fingering the blaster I held distastefully.

"Vader will be nowhere near us," Satine reassured me, "He's probably swooping around on the bridge like an overgrown bat – I wouldn't worry."

I tried not to, but as we slipped into one of the cavernous hangars, I had a feeling that this would be close. I helped Satine out of the manacles, chucking them to one side.

"There," Satine pointed, directed my gaze towards a small, one-man fighter close by, "I'll take that one."

"Where will you go?" I whispered, pulling us both behind some stacked crates in the shelter of the wall.

"Somewhere in the Outer Rim – Tatooine, I think. I wouldn't dare go back to Mandalore." For a moment Satine seemed absorbed in her thoughts, her eyes tinged with... regret? It was hard to tell; the expression went as fast as it came, as Satine blinked and pulled out her pistol, "Come on, let's try and get closer to that fighter." Together, we edged around the back of the hangar, but there were too many stormtroopers, too close.

"What are we going to do?" Satine turned to me, exasperated.

"Leave it to me," I hissed, "You make a run for the fighter when it's clear."

Satine nodded, grasping my arm as I turned to go, "Thank you for this, Padmé – I am in your debt."

I put my hand on top of hers, "It was good to see you again, old friend. Send me a message when you get to Tatooine, and I'll join you." I had just enough time to see Satine nod, before I ran off, heading a comfortable distance where I could draw the soldiers away from Satine. I had no idea how I was going to create this 'distraction', but luckily I didn't have to wait.

"Hey, you, stop!" one of the stormtroopers had spotted me, attracting the attention of the rest of the soldiers in the vicinity.

Bargaining on my disguise to hold, I obeyed. The stormtrooper approached me, and a plan began to form in my mind – if I could fake an escape, it could be enough to provide sufficient cover for Satine's own escape.

"Where's the rest of your squad?" He asked – the question threw me.

"Uh-" I hurriedly switched back to the deep growl I used as a 'man' voice – through the helmet it probably didn't make much difference anyway, "I'm running errands for Vader – I mean, the Emperor."

From the stony silence that greeted my words, it was clear that no one would believe my outlandish improvisation – in desperation I backed away, preparing to run.

The stormtrooper's logic capacities, however small, were nevertheless beginning to figure out that I wasn't quite who I said I was, "Aren't you a little short to be a stormtrooper?"

My cover blown, I ran towards a row of spacecraft, aiming my blaster over my shoulder and shooting wildly. As the stormtroopers replied with answering fire, I dived behind a tie-fighter, shots sizzling the air beside me. Rolling onto my knees, I glanced sideways and saw the distant figure of Satine climbing into the cockpit of her starfighter. I grinned to myself; _distraction: created_.

As the clunk-clunk of the stormtroopers heavy boots approached, I had a brainwave: if they knew who I was, they wouldn't dare shoot me. Hurriedly, I discarded the stuffy helmet, shaking my hair out, and peered around the side of the ship.

My blood froze, my heart stuttering, then pounding at double speed – it was my worst nightmare.

Vader was standing at the entrance to the hangar, his hungry gaze fixed directly on me. Terrified, I ducked back out of sight, looking instead at the ring of gun-bearing soldiers surrounding me. I heard one say something, but my blind panic for Satine had the whole of my attention – glancing over, I saw her ship taxiing to the edge of the hangar. I knew Vader could still easily thwart Satine's escape, so I still had work to do – I didn't intend to come quietly.

It was messy, but it worked. I tried running again, screaming obscenities in Vader's direction, and in the end it took Vader nearly choking me unconscious to subdue my tantrum. When they brought me over to Vader, gasping and struggling feebly but fiercely triumphant, the troopers didn't dare even look at him. "She was trying to escape, Emperor Skywalker."

A livid glare was all I got – for now.

It was my first real victory against Vader, successfully sneaking a high-profile prisoner out under his nose, and then publicly embarrassing him – I had no doubt there would be repercussions later, but I didn't care. However, despite my euphoria I wasn't oblivious to the impact Satine would have on my future plans: now I had an ally in the 'outside world'. I could use this to my advantage in ensuring the safe escape of both my children and myself, although I had no idea how – or even if – I could escape Vader's grasp.

Later, my old feeling of regret would surface from my sentimental side – I had been needlessly rash, and hurt the man who loved me, regardless of whether he was Vader or Anakin. It felt as if my head would explode; I didn't know I could harbour so many emotions at once.

But now, something had changed. Instead of a crushing lethargy, I was filled with energy, and even my regret at my actions was fading fast – a feeling I remembered from _before_.

It was the sensation of being awake.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed the chapter – each one of you that reviews will get a custom virtual hug… <strong>

**I can certainly say that the next chapter will be long, but I'm only halfway through writing it, so I'm not sure how long it'll be before I can post it!**


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